Populate When The Stars Go Dark [THR Populate of Surron]

[Pillar of Faith]

Theed Royal Palace, Naboo.
The High Republic Capital.

The opulent marble halls of the Theed Royal Palace felt uncomfortably small. Chandelier light blazed down on a gathering of the galaxy's most influential figures: powerful politicians, esteemed noble houses, and distinguished envoys from the far reaches of the High Republic. Representatives were all convened in this grand chamber, a gilded cage as a tempest brewed beyond its walls.

The crisis had begun subtly, as such disasters often do. A mere flicker on the holofeeds, then hushed rumors of an Imperial fleet assembling in the Core Worlds. Suddenly, all the screens came alive simultaneously, bathing the chamber in their cold, stark glow. Senators, ministers, and lords alike turned their eyes upward as the broadcasts shifted their focus to Atrisia.

And there it was. A silhouette so immense it obliterated the stars. A battle station of unfathomable size loomed over Atrisia's skies, hanging like a malevolent moon. Its superlaser ports gleamed with a predatory intensity, and its shadow engulfed the entire system.

The announcer's voice trembled as she delivered the grim news: "Project Stardust, codenamed Death Star III, has arrived above Atrisia. The Imperial Armada has been confirmed in support. Citizens are ordered to seek shelter. The Emperor himself has decreed your judgment."

Chaos erupted in the chamber. Nobles gasped, clutching their jewels and prayer beads. Ministers tried to restore order, while military advisors desperately called for fleets that were simply too distant to intervene. Even the most hardened governors shifted uneasily, their faces pale beneath their elaborate masks. Atrisia, the revered birthplace of the Lightsworn and a world steeped in ancient heroism, now faced the precipice of utter destruction.

On the holofeeds, the skies above Atrisia ignited with the fury of battle as the Armada unleashed its might. Yet, even more chilling were the fleeting glimpses of dark rituals: figures clad in crimson and black robes chanting in fire-lit chambers, seemingly fueling the battle station with something far more sinister than kyber crystals. The very fabric of the Force seemed to contort, bending like a reed against an overwhelming gale.

The nobles of Naboo felt it too. Even those with no sensitivity to the Jedi arts recognized, with a primal dread, that a terrible void was being torn open in the galaxy. A black wound bleeding across the stars.

Whispers of dread spread like a contagion through the hall:

"If Atrisia falls..."
"...Fondor is next..."
"...No, Naboo!"

The Royal Guards moved to secure the chamber doors as rising panic threatened to overwhelm them. Outside, alarms wailed across Theed. Nobles huddled closer to the screens, their prayers murmured, their hands clasped, their gazes fixed on the battle station that now seemed to direct its sightless stare towards them. Would Naboo be next?

The feeds displayed the battle station's colossal maw beginning to glow, the massive superlaser's focusing array sparking ominously to life. Though the devastating green energy had not yet been unleashed, its imminent threat seared itself into the soul of every observer. In that agonizing moment, Theed held its breath. And everyone understood: the Dark Times had returned.


Reference Threads:
New Bonds and Restoration
The Free Flow of Credits

Spoiler

This thread is intended to run concurrently with Wrath of God to give those who are not participating in it, the opportunity to react to the board wide event. We have set the scene in the palace but feel free to use whatever setting for your story.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Theed
Commando Citadel
Tags: Open​

The familiar weight of command felt heavier than he remembered.

Cassian stood upon the observation deck overlooking the Commando Citadel, a fortress of durasteel and discipline that rose like a blade from within Theed. Below, formations of soldiers ran precision drills under the blinding midday sun. Their armor, burnished white and marked by new insignia, gleamed like a promise. The cadence of shouted orders and synchronized footsteps rolled upward, a living heartbeat of the Republic's renewed strength.

He drew a slow breath. The scent of oil and ozone carried through the reinforced glass, maintenance crews tuning walkers, starfighters lifting in formation drills, medics tending to sparring injuries on the lower fields. Every detail told him the same thing, they were preparing to defend what could come.

"General Abrantes," a voice called from behind. It still sounded strange, hearing the title again after so long. He turned slightly as the adjutant approached, datapad in hand. "Latest training report, sir. Phase Two Commandos have completed atmospheric drop simulations. The 212th are adapting planetary defense patterns to coordinate with Naboo's Royal Guard."

Cassian nodded slowly, his gaze falling once more to the parade grounds. "Good. They'll need to trust each other when the sky falls."

The officer hesitated. "How does it feel to be back?"

Cassian let out a small sigh, but a smile ghosted his face. "It's like I never left, I've fought through several wars, the hardest one was leaving this behind for a time. Not the rank, but them....you all."

Outside, the Citadel's main gates parted as a squadron of ARC troopers jogged through, their visors glinting under the light. Somewhere beyond Naboo's skies, part of the galaxy was starting to turn.

"Well, its good to have you back. We shoul-"

It then hit suddenly, some started talking quicker than normally, and others were starting to scramble to their desk to ensure they were getting the right information.

The Calm hum of the center suddenly shift what was once, steady, clinical, became a quick mess of chaos. Cassian Abrantes stood at the center of it all, the faint glow of holoscreens casting cold light across his face as data streams rolled in faster than any operator could process. Reports from Atrisia. Distress beacons, encrypted calls, fleet telemetry that told a story no words could soften.

"Sir, we're receiving feeds from the Outer Sectors—Atrisia is.....Civilian channels are—" The comms officer faltered as the screen shifted again, showing the unmistakable silhouette blotting out the stars. Gasps rippled through the room. Even the most seasoned agents froze at the sight of it.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Theed Palace
Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx

​

The corridor gleamed with Naboo's quiet majesty, golden sconces casting soft pools of light across the polished marble. Sibylla walked in step beside Aurelian, Corde and Tona trailing just behind, their tablets already alive with the steady stream of notes and alerts that had dictated the pace of their entire day. This would be their sixth meeting, and she felt the weight of it settle already. Her calves ached faintly in her heels, though she would never allow it to show.

It was one thing to cover a single City-State like Dee'ja Peak during her brief tenure as Princess when her father had to depart for a time due to his Ambassador duties; another when now she had to assist in being the bridge between over a dozen city-states, their own Prince and Princess each wanting to be heard regarding their concerns or complaints. That wasn't even including the Royal Houses, vassal states, and commoners, much less the Gungan Ambassador and the mine and plasma refinery groups.

At least, Sibylla thought with a breath of relief, the next one was with Dominique. It would be good to see her again, and it should be a far more relaxed affair. A far easier task than the industrialists' earlier, whose voices still rattled through her mind, all tariffs and self-sufficiency, their proposals dressed as patriotism but tugging at Naboo's very soul. The green laws were not merely policy -- they were identity, inheritance, life. To soften them was to court ruin. And yet, somewhere in their noise had been a sliver of truth worth considering. A line so fine it felt more like walking a blade's edge than the floor beneath her feet.

However, a particular moment from the meeting they just departed made Sibylla's lips curve faintly, murmuring just low enough so only Aurelian would hear.

"You tried to foist Lord Sene on me when he began droning about percentages," she accused him with a mock affront while her eyes remained straight ahead, the glint of the sun's light catching over the Corseca Gems of her earrings.

"I caught that." The wry smile tugged deeper as her fingers brushed over the silk sash at her shoulder in a casual motion, but one that veiled her amusement. It was a private jab, a reminder that she saw more than Aurelian sometimes assumed she did.

They were just turning toward the next hall when the rhythm broke.

"Your Majesty," Tona's voice cut in, quiet yet edged with urgency. The timbre of it made Sibylla's pulse jump. She had stopped mid-scroll, gaze fixed on the tablet clutched in her hands.

Corde's reaction was sharper, her color draining as she read her own feed. Sibylla slowed, the echo of her steps faltering against the marble. A crease pulled at her brow as her chest tightened. Concern bled plain across her features as she turned slightly toward them.

"What is it?" she asked, just as she saw Corde swallow hard, then lift her gaze. "There are confirmed reports from Alliance space that Project Stardust... the Deathstar III, has arrived above Atrisia and is moving into position... with the Imperial Armada en route to support."

The words seemed to strip the corridor of its air, the warmth from the sconces paling into cold reflection on marble.

"What?" The soft exclamation fell from Sibylla's lips as her face blanched, color draining from her face as quickly as her eyes widened. She felt her stomach sink, a hollow chill blooming through her chest in its wake. For a moment, she could only hear her own heartbeat as it thundered unevenly at once, as though her body understood before her mind fully caught up. Her eyes panned up to land on Aurelian, and then she swallowed hard.

"The conference room with Dominique. There should be a holoarray there," she told them quietly, starting to move once more towards the Conference room.

 

[Ravion Corvalis]

​

Ravion Corvalis let the last steps of his entrance echo lazily across the Grand Gallery. Theed always smelled faintly of polished stone and river spray, an airiness that Malastare could never mimic. He breathed it in like a man reacquainting himself with civilization after too long among the provincial.

A cane, not needed but gifted by the Dugs on Malastare, tapped lightly in rhythm, a deliberate metronome against the hush of the marble hall. Myl, his assistant padded behind, one arm burdened with the usual stack of flimsis and rumour sheets Naboo seemed to breed as eagerly as its lake-fish. Ravion plucked the top sheet, unfolding it with a neat crackle as though it were the most important document in the Republic.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice dripping with amused disdain, “the Marquis of Ylvessa caught out again… I suspect the only ones scandalised are the printers.” His smile widened slightly, then faded as his eyes slid further down the column. “And there he is, our young Praxon...”

He folded the flimsi shut with a precise flick. The sound carried strangely in the vast hall, as though the air itself had stilled.

A prickling sensation climbed the back of his neck. He noticed, belatedly, that the chandeliers had dimmed. At first only a flicker, the brief sputter of a faulty connection, then all at once, the radiance bled from the room.

The great holoscreens recessed in the walls stuttered to life, drowning out the painted frescos with their sudden pall of static blue. The chatter of nobles faltered into silence. Even the guards at the doors shifted uneasily, helmets tilting toward the screens.

Ravion slowed his stride. His cane paused mid-tap.

The static thinned, resolved into the unmistakable outline of Atrisia’s skies. Gasps rippled outward in waves as though the chamber itself drew breath and held it. Above the world, blotting out the stars, hung a shape so colossal the mind resisted its proportions. A perfect curve that should have been a moon and yet was not.

The air in the hall grew close, heavy with the weight of recognition even before the announcer spoke. Ravion felt the silence crackling in his chest, each heartbeat louder than the last as the image widened, sharpened, dwarfed all else. A cold radiance lit the chamber as the station’s superlaser array glimmered, like an eye slowly opening.

The announcer’s voice broke against it, trembling. “Project Stardust…”

Around him, nobles muttered to each other, their jewels and gold rattling like windchimes. Prayers were whispered. One minister staggered backward, face chalk-white, as though struck by a physical blow.

Ravion did not move. He let the awe of it wash over him, as inevitable and immovable as the tide. For a single, unmeasured moment, all calculation stilled. It was not fear, not yet, only the overwhelming realisation that the galaxy had tilted, and nothing familiar would remain upright.

Only then did his hand tighten on the cane’s head, bone-white against the dark wood.

“Oh my it’s…” The only word that came to mind was not the one to be said here.

Beautiful.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Conference Room, Naboo​

"Stardust is already in flight."

Dominique propped up on the conference table to obscure the lower half of her face from the holorecorder. Her other hand held a pad, which held her attention instead of the projected image of the Executive Board.

"The Galactic Empire is moving. Before any other. They have the strength and the will to bring order. An order that will solidify our control over the markets ensuring an endless flow of credits! A purity of purpose that will require endless resources to build, to train, to reign!"

That the blowhard already had a speech prepared for this moment said all that needed saying. It infuriated Dominique to have their Intelligence report on this movement just before the moon-size monstrosity would emerge and begin its campaign of terror and conquest. What was the entire apparatus for if not to learn of these things when there was still time to stop it? To position spies and saboteurs to deter or destroy hostile powers' ability to shatter what little stability remain in the galaxy.

"It is our responsibility to align ourselves with the strongest movers and shakers of the galaxy. By their side will our influence become unrivaled. Denon should declare its support for the Galactic Empire!"

A roar filled the chamber as Directors began to shout over one another. Some salivated at the prospect. Others decried the risk. If any of them cared for the moral implications, their voices were drowned out well and truly amidst the rest. Self-interest ruled still.

"Senator Vexx," the booming voice of Director Balphor crashed over the din of voices, no doubt prepared to make an unreasonable demand of her.

"Director," she interjected at a normal volume.

"Excuse me?"

Dominique set aside the pad and lifted her chin just enough to peer up at the blowhard's enormous head. "Director Vexx, and Chief Executive Officer of Rachne Industries. I have other titles if you wish."

A sharp snort melded with a scoff. "Yes, Director, I'm sure you do. Republic stooge, perhaps?"

Slowly, Dominique rose to her feet, hand planted on the table before her. "We are money makers, the deal builders, and the star shapers, Ladies and Gentlemen. The Corporate Sector Authority does not bow. It does not scrape. It does not beg. If the Galactic Empire is so formidable and able, then it may come to us and declare its price; and then -- only then -- will we so much as consider them as a power to be reckon with."

"Director, there is no denying--"

"I deny it," Dominique snapped. "And I will deny anyone in this galaxy that dares to put itself above Denon and our interests. They can be a partner, or they can be our foe; but let those that stand against us know I happen to agree with our Mandalorian friends -- if there is to be war, let it be total war. Admiral Jhayla," a brief pause for him to acknowledge her call, "place the Fleet on alert for an incursion. Have our allies take all due precautions. The Imperial forces may be at Artisia now, but they are not the only fools to think to exploit an opportunity."

"If you will excuse me," another deliberate half-second pause, "while I gather more information to ensure Denon's future remains bright, strong, and everlasting." With the bat of an eye she had the channel terminated.

Only then did she let out a quiet sigh born of tension. They wouldn't take any conclusive action yet, but Dominique saw that there was still much work left to do with the Board itself. Her influence of them was not as absolute as she might like, and money talked. Fortunately, so did fear -- both for and against. She only hoped those opposing the Empire could show the rest of the galaxy resistance was not in fact futile.

Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Conference Room
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Dominique Vexx

Sibylla's accusation, soft but pointed, slipped from her lips. Aurelian's amber eyes glinted, his own smirk answering hers instantly. His face seemed perpetually caught between courtly charm and private rebellion, fueled by the kind of mischief that now spread across his features.

"Oh, come now," he drawled, leaning slightly toward her. His silk cloak whispered across the marble. "Lord Sene was practically begging for your attention. I thought it cruel to deny him the honor of boring someone so radiant. Besides," his eyes flicked to hers sideways, a spark of warmth deepening his grin, "you wear mock outrage better than anyone I know."

Corde muffled a laugh behind them, and Tona rolled her eyes with good-natured exasperation. Aurelian noticed their quiet exchanges: Corde leaning in conspiratorially, Tona allowing the stiff edges of her posture to soften. He had a fleeting thought that they might be becoming quick allies... maybe even friends. The idea pleased him. For all the grandeur of the palace, he preferred laughter carrying through the halls over whispers.

Their teasing rhythm, one of the few luxuries they allowed themselves between obligations, carried him easily forward until the shift came. Tona's voice, gentle but edged like glass, snapped the air taut. Corde's pale face and stiffened posture drove the truth home even before the datapad slid into his hand.

The smile dimmed, though it lingered faintly at the edges, the remnant of a mask Aurelian had worn since boyhood. The words on the screen burned away the last of it: Project Stardust. Death Star III. Atrisia. He had heard the whispers, naturally, but rumors were just fog. This was a blade drawn bare.

His jaw tightened. The sharp cut of his cheekbones seemed harsher beneath the sudden pallor shadowing his face. He glanced toward Sibylla, searching her expression. Her sudden whiteness mirrored the unease knotting in his stomach. The mischief in his eyes vanished, replaced by something harder, steadier. There was concern, and beneath it a flicker of anger that made his hand itch for a blade he wasn't carrying.

"Come," he said simply. His voice was quieter, but it carried a current that brooked no pause.

They pressed toward the conference chamber, their footsteps echoing with greater urgency. When the ornate doors parted, Dominique's poised figure was already there, haloed by the glow of the holoarray's dormant projectors. Aurelian wasn't surprised; Dominique was rarely caught unaware. He returned her greeting with a wry nod, masking the twist of dread in his chest with practiced elegance.

Crossing the room, he flicked the holoarray alive. The image flared into being: Atrisia's skies, split by fire and shadow. And there it was. The battle station's vast silhouette filled the screen, its superlaser array sparking to life. The sight pressed on his lungs like a weight, his instincts rebelling against the sheer, predatory enormity of it.

He exhaled slowly, forcing steadiness into his voice as he turned on Dominique.

"You already knew," he said. The tone wasn't accusing, but sharpened with intent. "What more do you have for us?"

His posture was easy, one hand loosely gripping the edge of the table, but his eyes betrayed him. They were steady, unblinking, and fierce. Beneath all his charm and jesting, Aurelian Veruna was a man raised on stories of Naboo's legacy. And legacy was never built by bowing to the dark.

​

 

[Fatine von Ascania]

OPEN​

Fatine hadn't been to Theed since she was a girl. It had been ten years, at least, perhaps more - and back then, she'd been captivated by the modern architecture and contemporary styles of Naboo's capital city.

Now, all the glittering jewels and polished sconces in the galaxy couldn't pull her from her worry.

Why did this trip have to coincide with a galactic cataclysm? Worst of all, at least two of her siblings had been pulled into the conflict.

Whatever was going on behind the grand doors of the conference room, Fatine did not want to be apart of, nor would she have been helpful to. Yet, she desperately wanted answers. Would the nobles and politicians have them? Were they simply going to look on in awe as the holofeeds fed them updates faster than most sentient eyes could read, or were they making contingency plans?

In one of the palace's guest lounges, Fatine tucked herself into the corner of a sofa. Glued to her datapad, she switched anxiously between three simultaneous newscasts. The image of the Death Star loomed over Atrisia, but she couldn't help but feel as though she too had been caught in its shadow.

Fatine was no soldier, no politician. She wasn't like her elder siblings, who'd developed skills of their own to engage this catastrophe. Would they even make it out? The notion had a violent chill sweeping through the heat of her frazzled nerves.

Normally, she exuded an unearned confidence. In the face of a crisis like this, she felt utterly useless.

 

[Lys Organa]

A group of young women sat in a corner of the servants' cafeteria, their identical gowns and hairstyles marking them as handmaidens. They chattered amongst themselves about the ominous announcement with wide eyes and stunned gasps.

"Have you heard the news?"

"Atrisia is under attack. They have a Death Star!"

"Oh, no!"

Servaine listened as she devoured her nuna sandwich. The handmaiden across from her looked appalled. "Servaine, how can you eat at a time like this?"

Servaine paused mid-bite. The other handmaidens' trays of food and drink lay untouched on the table before them, growing cold. Turning back to Lyssaine, she considered a biting response, but instead she shrugged. "I'm hungry."

 

[Rhys Gorne]

NABOO​

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Dominique Vexx

The office of Admiral Rhys Gorne was cloaked in the light of holofeeds, their glow painting Atrisia’s doom across every polished surface. He watched in silence, along with two other officers who had brought him the news, their arms folded, the stiff set of his jaw betraying what his eyes would not: fury at his own helplessness.

It should have been a simple day, engaging the draw up plans for now well established and bogged down naval expansion, but then that monster had appeared in the skies above Atrisia and his day had been ruined. The hardest part was knowing that as an Admiral of the Republic Navy, he no longer flew. He signed orders. He waited for committees. And so Atrisia would burn while he stood still.

Clink.

The small sound broke through his thoughts. A light pulsed on the secure relay beside his desk, steady as a heartbeat. Clink. Clink. Each flash pulled him closer until his hand hovered above the switch. “Both of you out.” He said simply, ushering the two officers from his office before sealing the door and making his way back to his desk.

He pressed it.

The static cleared into a channel he knew was coming, it was silent, distorted and vague. The clinking meant someone had activated the underground, somebody who seeing as only two people as yet had the button was of vast authority to do so. Rhys sighed and sat before the signal knowing that on the other side Rogue Leader’s voice would be waiting.

For a long moment, Rhys couldn’t answer. He saw not the glow of the Death Star’s maw but a dozen younger memories: late-night runs with the Perris siblings, the grin of a squadron after a hard-earned survival, the camaraderie of those who flew because no one else could. His friends, his family in all but blood, were out there in the dark, about to be asked to fly into the very maw of the Empire itself. And he wasn’t with them.

His voice came low, roughened with the weight of everything unsaid, he was unsure if it would translate through the encryptions.
“Rogue Leader, this is Gorne.” A pause. Then softer; “Kelly. You have full control. Engage as you see fit. You are clear for any and all targets. Go dark from Republic signals, you will be alone. If you find the opening…” His throat tightened, but the words came anyway. “Destroy that beast and come home.”

The channel closed. The light died. Silence returned to the office, emptier than before.

Rhys exhaled once, steadying himself, then fastened his coat with brisk precision. Duty demanded the next step, however much it sickened him to leave the fight to others. With Kalantha missing and the vice dead, there was no chancellor to command. Which meant the Republic’s fractured military would need a new axis.

His boots struck hard against the marble corridors as he made for the main assembly. The palace guards stiffened as he approached, hands brushing weapons, then lowering in recognition. Rhys halted before great carved doors, shoulders squared, the full authority of his office pressed into his voice.

“Admiral Rhys Gorne, Office of the Republic Navy. Requesting contact to His Majesty. He needs to be briefed.”

The words rang against the gilded stone like iron, a soldier’s truth in a palace of whispers.

Somewhere an aide would approach Aurelian. "My King, there is a High Republic Admiral here asking for you. Says he has a brief for you?"

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Tags: Open​

Cassian's jaw tightened as the chamber descended into a frenzy. The reports from Atrisia had silenced any lingering doubts the Empire had unveiled its weapon, and the galaxy trembled beneath its shadow. Yet here, in the Citadel at Theed, panic was a luxury they could not afford.

He stepped forward, voice cutting through the rising clamor.

"Enough. Eyes front, steady your hands. We cannot fight chaos with more chaos."

The room slowed, breaths caught, soldiers and officers alike snapping back to their training. Cassian's gaze swept across them, hard and unwavering, a general's weight returning to his shoulders as naturally as a blade to its sheath.

"We do not know where they will strike next. Atrisia has already shown us what we are facing, and the next world will not be spared because we lost our composure here. That is why we prepare. That is why we stay vigilant."

He gestured toward the holoscreens, their data streams painting grim pictures of burning skies and broken fleets. "Every report, every exercise, every readiness drill matters. Fear will gnaw at us if we let it, but fear is exactly what they want. We do not yield to it. Not here. Not now."

The silence that followed was taut, but steadier. Men and women straightened at their stations, officers barked measured orders, and the hum of the Citadel returned to its disciplined rhythm.

Cassian clasped his hands behind his back, staring once more out over the drill fields below, where white armor gleamed under Naboo's sun. "Until the Empire shows its hand again, or his Majesty and the High Chancellor say otherwise, we remain on guard. And when it does…we will be ready."

The words carried, firm as stone. There was nothing else left to do but prepare. And preparation, he knew, was the one weapon still theirs to wield.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Conference Room
T H E E D P A L A C E
Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Rhys Gorne

Sibylla followed close as Aurelian pushed the chamber doors opened, the hush of her skirts almost lost beneath the steady hum of the holoarray. The glow of it painted the walls in shifting blues and greens, but her attention went first to Dominique. Seeing her brought a measure of relief that crossed her features before she could school it away.

She crossed to her at once, reaching for Dominique's hand with both of hers, squeezing it as though anchoring herself.

"Thank the Shiraya you are here," she murmured softly enough that only the senator could hear. And she meant it. Dominique's presence steadied her in a way other than Aurelian or Cassian did. Not only because of what Denon represented, its power, its resources, its ties in the Senate, but because Sibylla trusted her. That trust mattered more than she could admit.

Still, her stomach twisted with a cold knot she couldn't quite will away. The weight of what was happening pressed against her ribs, leaving her breath shallow. There was so much to prepare, so much to consider: what to say to Naboo, to the High Republic, how to hold together a people already shaken by the Chancellor's kidnapping and the Magister's death in the wake of the Senate attack. And someone had to speak calm into that unraveling before it all tore apart.

Corde and Tona had fallen into a rhythm already, passing datapads back and forth, murmuring clipped updates. It was remarkable how quickly they worked as one, their quiet efficiency. She almost envied their ability to fold into task so easily. For her, the weight sat heavier.

Her eyes drifted toward Aurelian. He stood before the holoarray, the rising image of Atrisia and the shadow above it casting his features half in light, half in darkness. The sight of the station sent a shiver through her. The way its massive silhouette filled the screen, the maw beginning to glow, made her heart lurch painfully, as though her body knew before her mind could grasp it.

For a moment, Sibylla couldn't help but imagine Naboo in Atrisia's place. Theed skies burning. Waterfalls turned to steam. Marble halls swallowed whole. Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to breathe past it.

Tona broke to announce to Aurelian that Admiral Rhys Gorne was requesting an audience to provide a briefing.

“Admiral Rhys Gorne, Office of the Republic Navy. Requesting contact to His Majesty. He needs to be briefed.”

Hearing that meant one thing.

Hazel eyes snapped back to Aurelian, catching his amber eyes as he turned. She held them. Words weren't needed. The message was there in her look, plain to see: someone has to step forward now. Not later. Not after debate. Now.

Sibylla's chin lifted in the smallest, sharpest nod, a silent promise that if he did, she would stand at his side, no matter what the storm brought.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

"Aurelian." Dominique had read their expressions the moment the doors opened. They already knew of the news, which was no doubt being heard throughout the galaxy by that point. The lack of title wasn't a subtle effort to undermine the man; it hardly seemed appropriate to stand on ceremony when an entire planet could be laid waste in an instant. And they were alone. The three of them were hardly strangers.

Sibylla made as much clear by crossing over with her hands out. Dominique extended her's in turn with a subdued smile. Her fingers curled inward in a light squeeze of the other woman's embrace. "We'll weather the storm," she replied quietly for Sibylla's benefit. They would. Though it was too early to say how many might be lost, or what would be sacrificed along the way.

Bright, golden rings snapped to the side as Aurelian dropped a pointed statement. It wasn't that she'd heard before he turned on the projector, but the implication she'd known before him. That, of course, wasn't so remarkable. Such a remark would be a waste of breath in these trying times, but for the follow-up question. A decidedly bold, perhaps arrogant question.

Denon didn't hold an official position as the Republic's intelligence service, nor as that of Naboo's personal spy organization. Which meant it didn't have legal protections should anything untold be admitted to openly. If it were anyone else, she would have laughed off the insinuation and side-stepped any reply of note; with merely the hope of sprinkling in something during the conversation. Even though it were these two, however, she'd still need to be careful. What information she divulged could place operational resources in jeopardy based on how the Republic or Naboo utilized it.

Her eyelashes lowered a hair and the corner of her lips lifted in measure at Aurelian's polite demand.

"The Imperial forces have already breached the interdiction wall, and used a Star Destroyer to deliberately crash into the shield gate. Their naval and ground forces have no doubt entered the system and begun deployment to the planet below." The opening salvo. "I suspect you'll hear operational details as quickly as I will." With entire fleets and armies at one another's throats it would be difficult for news not to travel. They might hear slightly different details, and perhaps something of importance would need shared, but being so far removed from the front line it was unlikely those at Atrisia would not already be aware of such information.

No, there were other matters they could supply to secure the future. Matters that went beyond just Atrisia. "You may, however, find it interesting to reflect on how such an enormous waste of technology constructed for a singular purpose might escape notice." From a purely financial standpoint the Death Star was the greatest thing ever devised short of the Star Forge and other such legendary relics no one believes actually existed. Think of the sheer number of credits needed for its construction! However, from a technological point of view it was a colossal waste of resources. Denon could build something a fraction of the size with the same capability for devastation. But Empires didn't care about such a weapon merely being effective -- it needed to cow the masses by its sheer presence long before it fired the first shot. It did that quite well. But was still a waste of resources otherwise; not that it should stop them from spending their credits.

"And if they can build one, why not two at twice the price?" Dominique paused for a second. "Perhaps, in time, the facilities and the schematics used to construct it will be found." Perhaps. If there weren't already operatives working on doing just that. To take down this Death Star III? If the fleet couldn't, maybe, but it was just as important to make sure there wasn't a Death Star IV out there somewhere -- fully operational or otherwise.

Dominique trusted Aurelian could read into what might sound merely conjecture. She wasn't admitting to having clandestine forces monitoring for threats against Denon's interest -- perish the thought -- just that someone might look into such matters to uncover pertinent details to their collective futures.

An aide strode around to announce the arrival of Admiral Gorne. Sibylla exchanged a meaningful glance with Aurelian, which Dominique spied out of the corner of her eye. Like Kira, Sibylla could learn a thing or two about schoolign her body language, but there was time for that.

A slight raise of a fine brow followed her intense stare at her fellow Naboo Noble, and King.

Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Rhys Gorne​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Conference Room
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Dominique Vexx | Rhys Gorne

The glow of the holoarray sculpted Aurelian into sharp relief. Fire and cold light flickered against the gold in his eyes, and though his posture was loose, a tautness bled through, coiled in his jaw, visible in the silent drumming of his fingers. He had been taught composure since childhood, but even that old discipline wavered as Atrisia's burning skies flashed across the room.

Dominique's smooth words sharpened his unease. He had grown up around enough senators to recognize when truth was being wrapped in silk, when the hidden blade was angled to cut without exposing the hand that guided it. Aurelian was many things, and naïve was not one of them. His amber gaze lingered on her, studying the play of light against her poised features. He listened with a practiced half-smile as she deflected and reframed, revealing just enough to keep them moving forward. He admired this mastery even though it irritated him; tonight, every smooth word felt like a deliberate test.

Yet, a flash of something like mischief lit in his gaze. He recalled her earlier comment: "If they can build one, why not two?" His lips curved, sharp as velvet-sheathed steel. "An excellent question, Senator. And one that begs another: who is paying the bill? Someone signs the ledgers, someone counts the ore, someone fuels the beast. The Emperor may dream of terror, but he cannot conjure steel from thin air. Empires may bend knees, but they cannot cheat mathematics."

He leaned forward, one hand braced against the cool marble of the table. The rings of light from the holoarray emphasized the sharp lines of his face. "If it is hidden, it is hidden with purpose. And purpose leaves a trail."

He glanced toward Sibylla, catching the steel in her hazel eyes, the way her chin lifted in quiet determination. That look steadied him, a powerful reminder that even in the stormlight, he did not stand alone. The moment snapped taut when the aide announced, "Admiral Rhys Gorne, requesting contact."

Aurelian exhaled slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable. "Admiral Gorne," he repeated, tasting the weight of the syllables. The name conjured rumors from Naboo's naval attachés, whispers of discipline bordering on legend. He snapped his amber eyes back to Dominique. "You speak of shadows and ledgers. He speaks in ships and fire. Perhaps between us, we might yet find the cracks in the Emperor's mask."

He rose to his full height, moving smoothly, letting grace obscure his intent. His cloak spilled behind him in a slow sweep. "Send him in," Aurelian's voice carried easily across the chamber. "If Atrisia bleeds, we do not have the luxury of silence. Let the Admiral speak."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T H E E D * P A L A C E
CONFERENCE ROOM
Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx Rhys Gorne

Sibylla found herself following the thread of thought between Aurelian and Dominique almost instinctively. There was a rhythm to crisis when you had lived long enough in politics: shock, silence, strategy. You could not afford to linger on the first two.

"It wouldn't just be the financials," she began, her voice steadier than she felt. "It's in raw and refined materials. The kind that are hard to come by, even with the Empire's reach."

Sibylla stepped closer to the table, the light from the holoarray catching faint blue and green tones against her skin.

"We can reach out to the friendly intelligence networks and start narrowing it down. Something this massive leaves traces. The technology, the mining, the shipping lanes, they can't hide it all. Somewhere, someone is moving ore and fuel and kyber crystals to keep that thing alive."

Her gaze flicked toward Dominique, giving her a subtle expression of understanding, as she thought back to the discussions they had before, when the woman had invited her over to Denon, sharing secrets regarding her true skill sets and those she had connections to and access to.

"And not just through Republic channels. There are quieter ways of listening. Avenues that Denon or even the Bothan network might access. The underworld has ears in places the Senate will not even admit exist. If we cannot stop what is above Atrisia, we can at least make sure there is not another waiting behind it."

She reached absently for the datapad Corde handed her, fingers curling against its edge without really seeing it. There was more to it than just the superweapon itself. It was the tsunami of reactions that followed.

"The Empire thrives on spectacle," she said quietly. "On fear. They want people to look up and feel small. But fear can be redirected. It just needs something stronger to hold on to."

Her eyes drifted back to Aurelian, his face carved in the pale glow of the holoarray. For a brief second, she saw the boy he might once have been, before the crown and the corridors of marble. Then the image of the King returned, the weight in his shoulders, the flicker of calculation behind his eyes, and she drew a slow breath.

"And we need to give the Republic something to believe in," she said with a more defined purpose, already thinking of what sort of speech would need to be provided to the masses. Not just to Naboo, but to the High Republic and beyond. "Before panic does the talking for us."

 

[Rhys Gorne]

The guards opened the doors and Rhys stepped into the room. The light was dimmer here, filtered through the heavy drapes and the faint glow of the holofeeds still playing the nightmare from Atrisia. Aurelian Veruna, the King, stood at the head of a long table, his Voice; Sibylla Abrantes nearby, and the Senator of Denon off to one side with the expression of someone who had seen too many disasters begin this way.

Rhys saluted briefly, his posture formal but his eyes steady. “Your Majesty. Your Excellency; Senator.”

He waited for acknowledgment before continuing, his voice quiet but firm.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion, however at present, Your Majesty, you are the highest-ranking authority on Naboo and with that the Republic. Now at this point I’m meant to ask all others to leave the room.” He turned and shut the door, giving Dominique and Sibylla a glance. “However I know that the people present either know or will know within the hour anyway. So, let me begin. With the Chancellor missing and the Vice confirmed deceased, certain protocols have been activated that would usually remain strictly classified to them.”

He gestured subtly toward the table and placed a compact holo-projector on the table. It came alive with a low hum and bathed the room in shifting blue light. The image that materialized was unmistakable, the Death Star hanging in its threatening place over Atrisia, its surface crawled with data markers,

Rhys let the silence breathe for a moment. The blue glow of the holoprojector cast long, cold shadows across the room catching each face caught in its light.

When he spoke again, it was quieter and more deliberately aimed at the group with the tone of a man who knew what he was presenting was brain numbing in its scale.

“After Wielu,” he began, “the Republic realised something ugly, that we were fighting an enemy that had no interest in conventional war. They don't sign declarations. They don’t march their armies; they let shadows do it for them. Assassinations, false flags, disinformation; war of a thousand small cuts while our fleets sat waiting for permission to respond.”

He paced slowly around the table, his reflection rippling in the polished marble floor beneath the image of the Death Star. “The Senate’s rules of engagement… they were written for a different galaxy. For a time when we still believed in honourable conflict. But what Wielu showed us, what I and all of you experienced first hand; is that we were unprepared for what our enemies have become. Their weapons aren’t just ships or blasters. They weaponise the very fabric of who we are as a people.”

His gaze flicked up to the projection as it displayed a feed of crimson red triangles appearing in the sector, more Imperial ships, more death for Atrisia.

“So in the interest of openness, the Director of Intelligence and I… we built something new. Something that doesn’t exist. A reactionary net. It’s small and is integrated within other systems within the Republic Hierarchy. I have a rapid response team that moves without Senate oversight or broadcast authorization. It isn’t pretty, and it's not meant to be. However it meant that if the worst came to pass…” he gestured obviously toward the image of the Death Star, “we would at least have ourselves options in the game.”

He was fully aware of the moral weight of what he implied and let it settle like dust in the air.

Rhys looked directly to Aurelian.
“Make no mistake, Your Majesty, none of this was built for secrecy’s sake. It was built because one day we knew a weapon like that would come back.”

He keyed another command. The hologram shifted, pulling up fleet telemetry: arcs of green among the blue and red, unmarked signature signs blinking amidst the chaos above Atrisia.

“I have a team inserted and I have been given confirmation they have engaged. I have green lighted covert operations with open discretion. They’ve already broken off from command frequencies and gone dark. This information is a direct feed from my eyes in the system.”

For a long heartbeat, he said nothing more. The rhythmic flicker of the holofeed washed over him, reflecting in the old scars at the edge of his jaw.

“This may be unwelcome but I need to stress that we cannot interfere with the navy without risking full open galactic war. If the Galactic Alliance lose Atrisia, we lose the Republic’s chance at preventing the Core War spill into another Hyperspace War and at this time we’ll lose more than than anyone if that comes to pass.”

He turned back to Aurelian, straightening once again, duty locking into place like armour.
“Your Majesty, at this point I need your authorization to escalate contingency protocol ‘Stone Wall.’ This will grant operational control over the defence fleets and move them to set up along our Galactic Alliance border in preparation to receive both my team and rescue transports when the time is needed as well as potentially stop any unwanted pursuit of Imperial or other forces into our territory.”

The holoprojection pulsed brighter, the Death Star’s silhouette swelling until it dominated the room, its monstrous eye glowing faintly green.

Rhys’s final words came low, like a prayer through gritted teeth.
“I assure you Your Majesty… this won’t be Wielu. This time we are ready.”

Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Aurelian and Sibylla were both quick to see where everything led, which bode well for the Republic. Not that she doubted them, but given the circumstances one might be excused for not seeing the undercurrents of things spoken. Might be, but that wouldn't be an excuse for missing opportunities because of emotional turmoil.

As for the various trails left from constructing such a weapon, and where it might lead... Well, Dominique was prepared if those trails swept up a few corporations headquartered on Denon. She would be surprised if there weren't, and offended if the Imperial Emperor had deliberately avoided companies headquartered on Denon because it happened to be in Republic space. What could she say? Companies didn't care about saber rattling proclamations by governments; half the time they were just puffing themselves up. Not to mention Denon prided itself on neutrality for credits' sake.

A neutrality threatened every time a foreign government nearly killed or threatened to kill Dominique. You had to make a stand or people would just keep threatening you. Especially when they failed to follow-up such "misunderstandings" with an appropriate compensation package for any "perceived" insult or harm that might have resulted.

The Director's brows rose at Sibylla's insinuation Denon could help with "quieter ways of listening" as though she hadn't any idea what the Voice of Naboo meant. Of course, the smile that didn't waver in the slightest spoiled the feigned ignorance, but that was part of the fun.

Admiral Rhys Gorne soon strode purposefully through the doors after having been admitted. The smile easily slid into a smirk as the man acknowledged her by Senatorial title. It was such a delightful role, wasn't it? So easy to overlook and underestimate the capabilities of a bureaucrat. Though as the man soon confessed, it did also keep people from sharing vital information with you through official channels at times.

Strangely, Rhys started right in on matters recognizing the Republic's failures of Wielu. It was strange because that was precisely what Dominique had pointed out before the Senate to lukewarm reception. Not helped by Aurelian trying to favor a Naboo-headquartered company, but that was beside the point. So for someone of his rank to express the same sentiments had managed to captured Dominique's attention.

There was a cold mirth to Dominique's smile as she gave a subtle nod of the head to the Admiral's admission. A clandestine strike force? The Republic had one of their own? How delightful. Almost made a woman question why she'd expended her own resources... except for the fact the existence of these operatives had been kept from her, and even knowing of their existence she couldn't know they'd ever share anything with her outside of this moment. Just how the game of spycraft was played.

Like Aurelian and Sibylla's guards, however, Dominique wondered who had trained this clandestine force. A concern that was swiftly put aside when Rhys said these people had managed to get on board the Death Star. Whomever they'd found for the job was capable then.

"It could only be seen as a reasonable response to the crisis," Dominique remarked after the Admiral had put forth the idea of the Stone Wall protocol. "The Empire could object after the fact, but only in an effort to drum up propaganda for their own worlds." Propaganda that would be manufactured regardless of what the Republic did or didn't do.

Her golden eyes slid back to Rhys then. "Likewise, as I made clear in the Assembly chamber, Denon's Self-Defense Fleet is available should the Empire seek to open a second front far from Atrisia." Though as time went on calling it merely a Self-Defense Fleet would be selling it short. No need to make a big fuss out of though. Wouldn't want other worlds to get jealous -- or anxious. In any case, the invitation was there should the Admiral require any assistance in positioning pieces on the board.

Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Rhys Gorne​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Conference Room
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Dominique Vexx | Rhys Gorne

Aurelian listened to the Admiral's report in deliberate silence. The holoarray bathed him in shifting light, his expression unreadable apart from the slight tension at his jaw. He absorbed everything: the words, the figures, the veiled confessions. The weapon was reborn, the Republic was scrambling, and the balance of power was collapsing. None of it truly surprised him. What struck him was the speed of the inevitable. The galaxy was spinning toward the edge again, and Naboo stood too close to the center.

When the Admiral finished, Aurelian inclined his head before stepping closer, the holo's glow haloing him. "Admiral Gorne," he said at last, his tone level but weighted. "You've done well to bring this forward quickly. I do not envy the choices you've already made." His gaze flicked toward the projection of the Death Star, its green light pulsing.

"I would be lying if I said I believed the Alliance capable of holding this line." He drew a slow breath, amber eyes narrowing. "Atrisia will fall, it already has in everything but name. Every hour spent trying to stop that thing is an hour wasted that could have gone toward ensuring the Mid-Rim and the Republic survive what follows."

He began to pace, slow and thoughtful, his cloak whispering across the marble. "You are right. A protocol like Stone Wall is necessary. We can't allow this to spill outward unchecked." He paused. "But if we pull the defense fleets into that formation, what then of our other borders? What of the Western and Easter borders? The Sith remnants still simmer in those sectors. The Black Sun's fleets circle over a dying state." He turned slightly toward the Admiral. "If we commit too fully to Stone Wall, we might secure one front while inviting a dozen smaller wars along the others." Aurelian's words were precise calculation, not a rebuke.

Aurelian shifted his attention to Dominique. "Miss Vexx," he said, the edge of command softening slightly. "Your offer is noted and appreciated. Denon's fleet could be the difference between a defense and a retreat. Naboo... The Republic is grateful." The words were formal, but the glance he gave her carried genuine respect.

Then his gaze fell to Sibylla. Whatever mask he wore eased at once. "And you," he said quietly, as though the rest of the room had faded. "If roles are shifting, I suppose that makes you Queen now, doesn't it?" His tone was faintly wry, but the seriousness beneath it was unmistakable. "Tell me what you think, my Queen. Do we draw the wall and weather the storm, or do we risk more by standing still?" He would not give the order without her. Naboo had always been ruled by balance: courage and restraint, light and shadow. If he was the flame, Sibylla was the hand that kept it from burning the house down.

​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Direct: Fatine von Ascania
Indirect: Sibylla Abrantes Aurelian Veruna Rhys Gorne Dominique Vexx ​

"Please inform his majesty I'm humbly requesting an audience, as well the Voice of Naboo" Cassian nodded when he closed the comms as they informed him he was already in a meeting due to the events happening. That's what Cassian had predicted, he was sure they were discussing the layout of things right now. Cassian hoped to provide some small insight to the planetary ground defense, trainings and such.

The corridors of the Commando Citadel still echoed faintly with the footsteps of departing officers when Cassian stepped out into the Naboo sunlight. The warmth did little to thaw the weight pressing behind his sternum. Beyond the fortress walls, Theed lay spread before him its domes gleaming gold, its canals glimmering like veins of crystal, its people moving about unaware of just how close the shadows had crept.


A speeder waited at the base of the Citadel's steps. As he boarded, Cassian caught his reflection in the viewport a soldier once more in uniform, yet older now than we he graduated the academy, tempered by wars, victories and losses. The cityscape gave way to marble promenades and flowering terraces as the speeder wound toward the heart of Theed, where the Royal Palace rose like a bastion of peace against a darkening sky.

Guards in ceremonial armor saluted as he approached the grand entrance. Within, the palace was a contrast to the Citadel still, reverent, steeped in Naboo's artistry. The hush of the corridors carried a gravity all its own. Servants and attendants stepped aside as Cassian passed, recognizing the urgency in his stride.

"General, a moment."

"Now is not the time."

"General I insist."

Cassian took a breath and stopped suddenly. "Of course, what is it."

"There is a woman in the guests lounge, she hasn't spoke as to the circumstances of her arrival."

Cassian couldn't help but chuckle. "Forgive my reaction, but did anyone think to ask her?" Cassian patted the attendant on the shoulder. "I'll take care of it, inform his majesty and the voice I'll be present shortly."

The General entered the guest lounge at a good pace as he glanced around, taking part to be careful, as he too didn't know the part she played. She was sitting there on her datapad.

"Milady, forgive the intrusion. Is there someone you are waiting to see?"

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T H E E D * P A L A C E
CONFERENCE ROOM
Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx Rhys Gorne Cassian Abrantes
Indirectly: Fatine von Ascania

The title hit her harder than Sibylla expected.

Queen.

For a heartbeat, the word did not sound real. It lingered in the air, soft and irrevocable, before it sank into her like a weight she had not been ready to lift again. They had spoken of it only in private, when it was still hypothetical. When she had confessed her uncertainty, that she had not known if she wanted to be Queen because it was her calling, or because it was what she had been bred to become.

Now that choice was gone.

Aurelian would have to take the mantle of High Chancellor, if only for stability's sake, and Naboo could not be left leaderless. Someone had to hold its heart while he stood for the Republic. That someone, she realized with a slow, sinking clarity, was her.

SIbylla felt her breath catch for a second before she smoothed it away. But the subtle flicker in her eyes, the faint tremor of her hand before it steadied on the table's edge, Aurelian and Dominique would see it. They always did.

So she straightened, drawing herself upright, spine lengthening as if poise could steady her racing pulse, and while her voice came low, it was clear and determined with an edge of focus as if reviewing a dejarik board in play.

"We always knew this would happen," Sibylla began quietly, her hazel eyes sweeping across the holoarray. "Maybe not here, not now, but the signs were there. The buildup, the quiet movements, the shifts in trade and ore routes. We called it months ago."

She drew in a deep breath, both hands curling around the edge of the table as she studied the details laid out before her. "Maybe even a year ago -- the wolves at our gates."

The room felt smaller now, heavy with purpose. She turned her focus to the Admiral's data, to Dominique's measured counsel, to the faint outlines of Republic borders glowing in blue light.

"Do we have any indication of Black Sun activity?" she asked, her tone tightening as she turned to Admiral Gorne. "They attacked our Assembly and dared to kidnap Chancellor Kalantha and murder the Magistrate. If we are to enact Stone Wall, we need to know what shadows are moving while our fleets are repositioned."

She looked between them all, mind moving faster than her words.

"How well would we hold under the smaller planetary and sector fleets we already have in place? And beyond that, what allies can we depend on? Denon's strength will be essential," she said, turning toward Dominique, sincerity softening her tone, "but we need the strength of others as well. We will need to draw on the loyalty of the other worlds if this is going to hold if they decide to attack en masse. Rendili, Vandelhelm, even Geonosis and the Confederacy, if they will answer."

Her gaze flicked to Aurelian again, and for a moment the air between them carried all the things neither had yet said, the fear, the enormity, the unspoken bond that had always anchored them in the storm.

She exhaled slowly, the faintest tremor hidden beneath her calm.

"If the Empire wants to remind the galaxy what fear looks like," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "then Naboo will remind it what resolve looks like."

Her chin lifted again as that quiet, subtle fire returned to her eyes as she turned back to the holoarray. The mantle was already settling across her shoulders, whether she wanted it or not.

 

[Raylin Fall]

NABOO MILITARY EXERCISE TRAINING AREA
Operation Go-Getter

Tags: Open l High Republic Military

​

MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE THEED.....


There was a gathering of soldiers, Troopers that had been assigned to Naboo after the wave of attacks and the assaults on the High Republic and the Alliance. They'd been assigned to various duties, but the higher-ups had managed to squirrel away a rotation for a training exercise. The rolling hills and steep cliffs made excellent airborne and insertion practice. Low-altitude jumps to HALO jumps, to aerial insertions and for Raylin and similar medics, medical practice, from in-flight patient transfers to trauma wound covering.

But now, they, being the nearly company-sized operational detachment of Commandos and Marines, were huddled around screens and datatransmitters, watching the reports roll in, view feeds from those brave enough to venture out into Atrisian space.

And it horrified them. They'd heard stories of the Death Star, a weapon surpassing all others. And now, it was here. Raylin was with his squad of medics, breathing raggedly as the Death Star loomed above. It dwarfed all other ships, even the mighty Star Destroyers the Empire wielded. Even the Alliance flagship, the Mon Mothma, was downright miniscule in scale to it. Raylin could only watch in horror, in awe, in amazement- and a single thought crossed his mind.

How do we fight it?

​

Not could they, not would they, but rather how. A testament to his resolve, or perhaps his stubbornness, or maybe, more accurately, stupidity. But for now, they could only watch, in slight terror, at the fearsome might of the Empire presented to them. Sergeant Raylin had doubts, as many of the gathered men did. Raylin felt the fear creeping up his spine. At any given moment, they could launch that terrifying weapon into Republic space-

And destroy an entire planet.

"Force help us all, boys."

He was scared. He didn't need to hide it.